Dare to Trust
by mlj102
Summary: Sara's past is full of people betraying her trust. Now she looks back on those experiences, deciding if it will ever be safe enough for her to trust someone again. Chapter six is now up. Hope you all enjoy it!
1. Haunting Memories

**Dare to Trust**

Disclaimer: None of the characters, etc. are mine. This story is just for fun.

Ten year old Sara Sidle lay in bed, starring into the darkness that enveloped her. She kept completely still, both arms wrapped tightly around herself. A sharp crack broke the silence that had momentarily filled the small house and she jumped slightly, cringing despite herself at the all too familiar sound. Every night was the same. Her father's voice, low, yet demanding, floated to her ears through her closed bedroom door. Though too muffled to make out what was being said, his tone was raised high in anger and she squeezed her eyes shut, as if by the sheer force of her will she could block it all out – make it go away. She hated the sounds – hated the feelings that accompanied them. The anger and hate and fear that came with those sounds permeated the house and brought with it a darkness deeper and more all-encompassing than the literal darkness that came with the setting sun. This darkness filled her up, seeping into her dreams long after she would finally be able to drift to sleep. She couldn't escape it. She was entirely helpless to fight it off. And she resented that with everything she was. While she knew no other way of life, she was convinced that these dark feelings were not what she wanted running through her.

Without knowing why, she shuddered slightly, despite the warmth of the blankets wrapped around her. She paused in thought while she tried to ascertain what had triggered such a reaction in her. Something was different. Then it hit her. The sounds had stopped. Absolute silence hung all around her, contrasting sharply to the yelling and fighting she typically heard until the early morning hours. While she embraced the sweet release that came with the absence of the sounds, the silence held a different sort of fear for her. Slowly she opened her eyes, assessing this uncommon development. What could possibly have caused the sounds to stop?

She sat up, peering towards her bedroom door, expecting the sounds to resume at any moment. But they never came. The silence grew louder and louder the more it continued. Cautiously she pushed the blankets off of her and climbed out of bed, all the while straining her ears, anticipating something...anything. She slowly crossed the small distance over to the door and paused, waiting. Her breath now came out in shaky bursts as she tried to control the uneasiness rising through her young body. She crouched down in front of the door and lifted a shaky hand up to the doorknob. Her body tense, mind alert, and heart racing, she slowly turned the handle, careful not to make a sound. A thin column of light cut into the darkness of her room as she pulled the door open ever so slightly. She leaned forward, a small lock of her light brown hair falling in front of her face. Peering through the thin crack, she blinked several times, surprised by the bright intensity of the light. Eventually her eyes adjusted and she was able to make out the hallway wall directly outside her room. Strange red lines streaked along the old, white surface. Her initial reaction was fear – her father would be furious at such a mess. Then a new, more intense feeling crept over her, pushing her concerns of her father's temper to the back of her mind. She'd never felt this way before and it brought a strong sense of foreboding with it. An unusual, almost metallic smell floated in the air and she wrinkled her forehead, unsure of what it could be from. She sat there for a moment, frozen by the unwelcome feeling that surrounded her, entering even into her deepest thoughts. Managing to shake it off, she quickly closed the door, as if by doing so she could somehow trap that feeling outside.

Breathing heavily, she hurried back to her bed, climbed on top, and crawled to the side furthest from the door. Once she reached the wall, she turned around and faced the door, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Defensively, she pulled her legs close to her chest, not daring to take her eyes off of the closed door in front of her. She didn't know what lay on the other side, but she knew she wanted no part of it. She wanted to wrap herself tightly in her blankets and stay here in her small room, forever isolated from the silent monster that had somehow suddenly entered her life.

Sara Sidle shot up suddenly, breathing heavily as the memories from her dream continued to dance through her mind. The worst part was that it wasn't merely a bad dream. Rather, it was the actual memory of her youth, coming back to her in full force, all too vividly – with all the feelings attached to it.

She looked quickly around her, taking in her surroundings. The dream had been so clear, so real, it still lingered in her mind, leaving her feeling disoriented, full of panic. Gradually, the reality of the dream faded and she began to remember her true circumstances. She was in Grissom's apartment – on his couch. They'd come here after work the previous night, as they often did. They'd spent a calm evening together, enjoying each other's company. The last thing she remembered, they'd been sitting comfortably on the couch. She had been leaning back on him while he had encircled his arms around her as he related some of the finer points of his Walden Pond Seminar to her. She had felt entirely at ease, perfectly content to be in his presence, listening to his mellow voice. Somehow she had drifted off to sleep. If only she'd been able to keep those feelings with her as she slept.

"Sara?" Grissom came in from the next room and looked at her with a small smile on his face. "I thought I heard you." He said simply, cocking his head to one side as he approached her. A look of concern crossed his face as he was able to get a better look at her. She was pale, breathing heavily, looking frazzled and oddly on edge, her hair damp on her forehead. He quickly sat next to her and reached a hand up to gently caress her cheek. "Honey, are you all right? You're shaking." He observed, his voice trailing off as he reached his other hand out to rest on her own cold hand.

"It's nothing." She said simply, trying to calm the tremor in her voice. She felt better now that he was with her, yet strangely guarded. "It was just a bad dream." She added quickly, noticing he wasn't convinced by her initial, vague attempt to dismiss the subject.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked gently, looking deeply into her eyes.

"No." She responded quickly. Then, shaking her head, as if doing so would also shake the bad feelings away, she added "I just want to forget about it."

He nodded once, regarding her carefully, making sure she was truly all right, then pulled her close to him. He gently stroked her hair and softly spoke comforting words to her. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly lift off of her. The truth was, the events of that single night of her childhood had turned her life upside-down – had completely challenged everything she'd ever believed in. After that night she'd had to rethink everything she'd ever allowed herself to trust in. The resurfacing of those memories was unsettling, to say the least.

"It's all right." He was whispering soothingly, his voice full of kindness. "It was just a dream. Just calm down." She stiffened slightly at his choice of words. She knew it was just a coincidence, knew he could have no way of knowing what she associated those words with. But despite his good intentions, he had managed to pull yet another unwelcome memory up to the front of her mind.


	2. Realistic Expectations?

Dare to Trust

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters, etc.

Note: Thanks to all who read the first part and gave a response. I hope you all continue to enjoy! Oh, and in case it needs any clarification, this section is meant to be from Sara's college days.

* * *

"Sara, just calm down!" he said sharply, impatience rising in his voice. Sara stood across from him in his apartment, starring at his familiar face, yet at the same time seeing him for the first time – seeing him for who he truly was. They had been dating for months and she had felt she'd truly loved him. Now as she looked into his brown eyes, it felt as though he'd punched her in the stomach.

"Calm down?!" She said angrily, not believing what she was hearing, "Why should I? You've been sneaking behind my back…lying to me. And I'm supposed to just happily accept that?" She regarded him, shaking her head. How could she have been so blind to have been deceived by him for so long?

"Come on, Sara." He said, stepping towards her, "It's not that big a deal!"

She stepped back, quickly avoiding him. "It is to me!" She shouted back at him, angry that he could treat their relationship so lightly.

He narrowed his eyes in disgust and frustration. "Gosh, you don't need to freak out about it. Just 'cause I slept with another girl doesn't change how I feel about you. Stop being such a jealous, old-fashioned prude!"

Her eyes widened. "Is that what I am?!" She asked, anger shooting from her eyes.

"Well, yeah." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "No one cares about stuff like that these days."

"Well I do!" She retorted, grabbing her jacket and moving towards the door. "And if wanting to be in a single, honest relationship where I can trust another person makes me an old-fashioned prude, then so be it – that's who I want to be." She glared at him, then added angrily "It sure beats being someone like you!" And with that she opened the door and hurried out, leaving him standing there, bewildered. The door slammed behind her and she never looked back.

* * *

Pulling herself back to the present moment, she considered that event. While extremely painful to experience, it had also been very eye-opening. She had realized at that moment that the quality that topped her list of what she looked for in a companion and husband was someone she could trust implicitly. But was it practical to think she could ever find someone like that? Her new relationship with Grissom was a delight -- more than she'd ever hoped for. But she'd never had much luck in the area of being a good judge of who could be trusted. Just when she'd finally think she'd found someone worthy of her trust, they'd let their true colors show. Sitting on the couch, his arms wrapped lovingly around her, she stiffened as an unwelcome thought suddenly formulated itself in her mind. What if Grissom turned out to be just another person she couldn't trust? 


	3. Time Out to Contemplate

Disclaimer: I still don't own any part of the show, though I do enjoy writing about it...

Author's Note: I hope that this isn't too boring for anyone. I know it's not the most fast-paced, fluff-filled story out there. It's more an analysis of what I believe Sara is currently experiencing. So I hope people still find it entertaining enough.

* * *

Chapter 3: Time Out to Contemplate

As she stepped out from the bathroom, Sara's attention was immediately drawn to the blinking red light on the answering machine. Her hair still damp from her shower, hung loosely around her shoulders and she pulled it back into a casual ponytail as she crossed the room, absently hitting the playback button as she passed by the machine.

"You have one new message." The mechanical voice dryly informed her. Sinking into her favorite, over-stuffed, chair that sat along the far wall of the living room, she let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes. Her shower had been refreshing, but it couldn't wash away all the concerns that were weighing down upon her. Today had been a particularly long day at work. It didn't help that things were starting to get to her again – more than usual. She thought she'd moved past that.

She opened her eyes as Grissom's steady voice played through the tiny speakers of the answering machine. "Hey Sara. I just thought I'd let you know that I'll probably be a couple more hours. Ecklie's really giving me grief about this whole mess of not putting the miniatures out to the press. He's got all sorts of meetings scheduled for me to explain my actions and "present a solution to help preserve the reputation of the lab.". You know, typical administrative nonsense. Anyway, so I'll see if I can escape sometime in the near future, but I just wanted to give you the heads up that I might be awhile. Love you."

Sara shook her head, letting out a mirthless chuckle as the message ended with a high pitched beep. She didn't know if she would ever understand Conrad Ecklie. Truthfully, she didn't really care to ever understand him. The day she understood the guy would be a sad one, indeed.

Grissom, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter; quite the paradox for her. She had learned to understand him rather deeply in many areas – perhaps more than anyone else could or would ever understand him. In many ways, the two of them were strikingly similar and she'd found a strange sort of solace in that. But there other areas that still continued to leave her completely and utterly baffled.

They'd come a long way over the years. Despite concerns and obstacles, they'd finally managed to establish themselves in a sturdy, healthy relationship. And it had brought them immeasurable joy. It was just what she'd always imagined and more. To a certain extent, she knew she could trust him one hundred percent. She knew that he had a special place in his heart for her and that made it so that he would defend her unconditionally – with his life, if necessary. He had shown over the years they'd known each other that he was willing to sacrifice for her and she couldn't just ignore all that. She knew that loyalty was genuine. Then why was she struggling so much?

She pulled her legs up tight to her body, as if doing so would somehow bring her more strength. Her forehead wrinkled in frustration as she continued to contemplate. It should be a no brainer. If she felt so certain about these various aspects, then it really shouldn't be that much of a stretch to take it the next step, to go all the way. Yet something inside of her was holding her back, telling her to be cautious.

Logically, she knew that if there was anyone she could trust, it was Grissom. Yet in the same way, it was clear to her that if there was anyone she was most afraid of trusting, it was him. Trusting him now would require doing so in every way – holding nothing back. Taking that step would leave her completely vulnerable. Experience told her that was not a move to be made lightly. If he turned out to be someone she couldn't trust... she wasn't sure she could take that risk.

She didn't like this feeling that was so quickly making itself a part of her daily life. It caused her to rethink even the smallest detail of every experience. It terrified her to consider the possibilities. What if everything she thought she knew was false? An idea suddenly occurred to her. Maybe it wasn't the outside factors she couldn't trust, but it was herself. She sat up straight, intrigued by this sudden insight, while at the same time not liking the uncertain direction it was leading her. The last thing she needed was to be stuck having to analyze every aspect of herself on top of already analyzing every outside factor of her life. She'd done that before and knew that it got old very quickly. No thank you. And yet for some reason she couldn't shake the thought from her mind. This insight, unwelcome as it may be, just might be getting her somewhere.

"_It isn't other people we have the hardest time being able to trust; rather it is ourselves." _The thought surfaced out of nowhere, standing out in her mind like a bright neon sign in the middle of the night. Where had she first heard that?

And then she remembered.


	4. Unexpected Lessons

Disclaimer: Once again, nothing is mine.

* * *

Chapter 4: Unexpected Lessons

"The evidence never lies." It was stated so simply, so casually, yet so powerfully. "Thank you." He said in conclusion. He was finished. Where had the time gone? Sara had been so fascinated, so drawn in by the things Dr. Grissom had taught, that she'd been completely oblivious to the passage of time. Quiet applause filled the small auditorium, followed by the sound of chairs scraping on the floors as they were pushed back and hushed voices starting polite conversations. All around her people were bustling about, moving on with their lives, but Sara remained fixed in her seat. Eyes narrowed, she pondered that final statement. Something about it didn't sit right with her.

"Was it something I said?" The voice floated gradually into her thoughts, and it took a moment for her to realize he was addressing her. She started slightly, bringing her focus back to the present moment. Dr. Grissom stood to the side of the podium, near the chalk board, looking at her expectantly with an expression that seemed half confusion, half amusement.

Struggling to regain her composure she quickly searched her mind for a good response. "Umm, no, Doctor. I was quite intrigued by your lecture."

He steadily returned her gaze, eyebrows raising in question. "But..." He prompted.

She blinked, slightly taken aback by the directness he exhibited. "Well," she ventured, "it's just, I'm not sure I quite understand your closing remarks." She searched his face, trying to decide just how much she should express. He simply continued to look at her, so she continued. "The evidence never lies. You say that with such certainty, such conviction. But never is an absolute. I guess I'm skeptical as to how you can say so without a doubt. Surely the evidence can't be unconditionally correct all the time. How many times do you hear about innocent people being falsely accused – backed up by evidence?"

She finished, looking in his eyes, firm in her opinion, yet worried that she'd overstepped her bounds. He regarded her for a moment, a slight smile on his face, as though he enjoyed being challenged so specifically. "You bring up some good points, Miss...Sidle, was it?"

She was startled, and uncommonly flattered that he knew who she was. "Yes." She finally managed to confirm. "Sara Sidle."

"Well, Miss Sidle, if you aren't busy at the moment, and if you're interested, I would be more than happy to spend some time going over those concerns with you and explaining where I'm coming from with that."

She smiled, genuinely honored by the invitation. "I would like that very much."

They ended up sitting at a table at a nearby, outdoor cafe. The sun shown brightly, bringing a cheery glow to the constantly busy city streets. She sat across from him, leaning forward so that her arms sat folded, lightly resting on the table in front of her.

"So, let me see if I've got this right." He began. "You don't understand how I can say that the evidence will never lie – one hundred percent of the time."

"Exactly." She confirmed. "It makes sense to me that it would be accurate most of the time, but there have to be exceptions."

"All right. Well, I see where you're coming from, but I still maintain that the evidence is what it is and nothing will change that." He looked at her with a calm expression as he sought out the best way to convey his reasoning. He was definitely in his element, being able to just discuss the work he cared so much about, and it was obvious how comfortable he was with this subject. "May I propose two reasons why the evidence may on occasion lead to false results. Either someone has planted false evidence, or those collecting it misinterpret what it says." Sara nodded her head; that made sense enough. "Either way, what the evidence says isn't changing – it says exactly what it's supposed to. The mix up comes from the people involved."

"Okay..." she said, turning the thought over in her head. "So the evidence will only direct you where it's supposed to; but then why are there so many possible ways to interpret it?" Again, she worried that she'd gone too far and would be offending him with her opposition, but that concern quickly left her mind as she saw him smile softly, looking at her with great interest.

"Because when we as CSIs gather a piece of evidence, we are only seeing one piece of the puzzle. Take anything out of context, and a person can find dozens of different explanations for it. Compound that with the fact that each individual person can view things differently from those around them, and you've got a whole lot of possible directions that evidence could take you."

She bit on her lip, intrigued by this discussion. "If that's the case, how can you ever trust the interpretation of the evidence to be correct? How do you know it's not just any random theory a person chooses to satisfy the evidence at hand?"

He sat back in his chair, as if what she'd said had just proved some important point. "That's why you need trained CSIs on the job. A CSI who truly knows their job is able to take all those possible interpretations and rule out all but the correct one."

"But how can anyone be certain it's not just their personal opinion?" She countered.

He paused for a moment, considering the best way to respond. "Let me suggest," he finally replied, "that it isn't other people we have the hardest time being able to trust; rather it is ourselves."

That statement caught her off guard. Attempting to cover her surprise, she finally commented "I hadn't ever considered that before. How do you figure?"

"Well, most times you hear people saying that the only person they feel they can really trust is themselves, right?" She nodded her head – she definitely knew the feeling. He continued. "But when it comes right down to it, in order to trust other people or other things, you first need to be able to trust your own perceptions and your own interpretations. And being able to trust yourself to be accurate and honest in the things you encounter is really quite a bit harder than one initially thinks."

It was a new concept for her, yet strangely it made perfect sense. How had she never thought of it before? "So," she said, trying to formulate her thoughts, "people who doubt – who can't trust others – aren't able to trust themselves?"

He nodded, "Sometimes something really isn't trustworthy, and in that case, a person who trusts themselves is able to sense that right away. But a person who doesn't trust themselves is constantly second guessing anything they encounter. They're unable to trust or not trust, so they just stay away from people altogether. It's actually quite a vicious cycle."

Sara quietly took that in, taking a minute to consider all it implied. "So in order to trust the evidence to lead to the truth, you must first trust yourself to interpret it correctly?" It came out sounding like a question, but even now she knew it to be the truth.

"Exactly." He said, smiling, obviously pleased with her quick grasp of the concept. "Does that help to address your concerns?"

"Yes." She said. Then, without thinking, added, "But how does a person come to trust themselves so completely?" She couldn't believe she'd actually said that. Here she was, talking with a brilliant scientist who she hardly even knew, and yet she was having the deepest, most personal conversation that she'd likely ever had. This topic was quickly getting further and further from official business, and they both knew it. She never permitted herself to speak so freely, so openly, of her personal thoughts and concerns. How was it she suddenly felt so willing to share her thoughts now?

"That, I don't know." He said after a moment of thought, looking into her eyes, his own eyes full of sincerity. "Honestly, I'm still trying to figure it out myself. I suppose it differs for everyone. For me, it comes with experience. There are just things I know I can trust because I've proved it to myself so many times before. But I think everyone needs to continually re-evaluate where they're at in order to maintain that trust in themselves."

They sat there for a minute in silence, simply looking at one another, oblivious to the world around them. Just then his pager went off, causing both of them to jump slightly in response. She was suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating. Why was she reacting like this?

He looked down briefly at the message, then back up at her. "Miss Sidle, it truly has been a pleasure discussing this with you. You ask some very intellectual questions and I'm impressed by that. However, I'm afraid I need to go now."

"I appreciate you taking the time to explain to me. It has certainly been enlightening, Doctor Grissom." She responded, fidgeting with her watch, suddenly feeling the need to focus on something else besides him.

"Please, feel free to call me Gil, or just Grissom." He said, surprising her.

She smiled. "All right," She said slowly, then added, "but then I'm just Sara."

He returned the smile. "You are a very talented student, Sara. I know you'll go far in whatever path you're pursuing." He stated, then added, "I do hope you'll keep in touch."

Normally she'd have politely brushed him off, saying yes, while in all reality having no intention whatsoever of committing herself and following through for anyone or anything. But there was something different about him. She found herself genuinely smiling and saying "I will." He reached out and shook her hand. The touch, while professional enough, sent a small shiver down her spine. She hoped he hadn't noticed, as she felt foolish enough. He had been a considerate professor addressing her concerns. There was nothing more to it and in all likelihood she'd probably never see him again. There was absolutely no reason to let her emotions get the best of her. Still, as she watched him walk away, something in the back of her mind told her this was only the beginning.


	5. Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Dare to Trust

Chapter 5: Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and also for all the responses. It's good to know that people are interested in this!

* * *

"So I ask him, 'What in the world could prompt you to dare your best friend to climb to the top of a twenty-story building and jump off to the ten-foot deep swimming pool below?'" 

Sara had walked into the break room just in time to hear Nick's remark in his discussion with Greg and Catherine. Having just taken a drink of water, she choked, startled by the complete absurdity of such a notion. After coughing for a moment, she managed to ask "Are you serious?!"

"No joke." Nick said, turning to her. "Kid said they were always daring each other to do wild and crazy things."

"And they couldn't figure out that it would be deadly?" Greg asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Well, not exactly." Nick explained. "See, there were signs of a struggle near the edge the kid fell from. So it was pretty obvious he'd gone over unwillingly. I think the dare got him up there, but once he saw how high it was, he tried to back out. But the friend wasn't going to let that happen. He pushed him." Nick finished his story, looking at the startled, incredulous expressions around the room.

Finally, Catherine spoke. "So what did he say when you confronted him with the evidence?"

"What could he say? He cracked. Apparently, his "best friend" had betrayed him – exposed some deep, dark secret he'd confided to him about. Kid was furious and decided justice would be served by killing his friend."

Sara shook her head. How could murder be considered justice? Just the thought was a contradiction.

"Well," Greg stated, "Life in prison should be welcome justice for him then, yeah?"

"No kidding." Catherine chimed in. "Maybe now he'll learn just what justice really means."

Justice. The word rang in Sara's mind. It was not a word she liked to hear anymore. It was a word she associated with mistaken friendship.

* * *

This couldn't be right. There must be some other explanation – something she'd overlooked. But even as she thought it, she knew there was no mistake. The evidence was speaking loud and clear. The slow, sinking feeling of betrayal settled in all around her. 

Melissa had preached justice; had given speeches of its importance over and over again. She'd spoken with such conviction – such power – and Sara had fallen for it all the way. She'd liked Melissa – even admired her. The way she fought for truth had seemed remarkable. Sara had dedicated herself to bringing closure to Melissa's case. She wanted to do something that would help her friend feel peace. But this was something she hadn't seen coming. Now as she contemplated the facts her investigation had turned up in her friend's case, that feeling of admiration came back, openly mocking her. All the evidence pointed to one conclusion: Melissa was no victim. She had murdered her husband.

Whatever problems had been in the marriage, Sara firmly believed there were other options besides murder. "Justice is greater than our personal feelings – than revenge; than pity." Melissa's voice echoed in Sara's mind. How could she preach that when she was actively living the opposite? Perhaps what bothered Sara most was that, not only had Melissa killed her husband, but she had constantly, openly lied about it. It was incomprehensible in Sara's mind how a person could kill someone and go on living life like there was nothing different. In everything Melissa did, she was deceiving herself and everyone around her. Nothing she had done after that could really be considered truthful.

It affected Sara deeply to realize that Melissa, a person who came across as deeply honest and truthful – someone she'd considered to be her friend – had lied to her. She had thought she knew who Melissa was; had believed she could trust her. But now? Now she wasn't sure if anyone could be believed to be what they appeared to be. Now she wasn't sure who she could trust.

* * *

Forcing the memory back to the far corners of her mind, Sara realized she was now in the break room alone. When had everyone else left? She didn't like how memories like that could completely consume her so easily. 

Her experience with Melissa had been especially painful for her. At first glance, Melissa seemed like your average person. She had been so approachable; so likeable. Sara never would have guessed she'd have been capable of murder. If she hadn't looked into Melissa's case, she probably never would have known Melissa had been the one to shoot her husband. She would have gone on confiding in her, admiring her, never suspecting the reality of who her friend really was. That fact frightened her. How could she ever trust anyone to be what they appeared to be? How could she trust her own perceptions?

The reality hit her hard. Suddenly she realized she didn't know what to believe. For all she knew, everything in her life could be a lie. Worse than that, it was a vicious cycle that she didn't know how to escape. In order to trust the things around her she needed to trust herself, but to trust herself, she needed to understand the reality of things around her. But that would require her to trust herself. It was one of those awful paradoxes, like the chicken and the egg. She'd never been the kind of person who liked trying to answer riddles like that. Having to actually live one wasn't any better.


	6. Comforting a Killer

Dare to Trust  
Chapter 6: Comforting a Killer

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Author's Note: Again, thanks to all who have read and commented. Part of what makes writing these so fun is knowing that other people like it. So hopefully you will all continue to read and enjoy.

* * *

Sara hated being wrong. 

Not that she was proud. It was one thing when it was about a theory, or a hunch proven incorrect. She could handle that. But it was entirely different where people were involved and it felt like a slap in the face every time she discovered a person wasn't as trustworthy as she thought they were.

Unfortunately, in her line of work, she dealt with people all the time. Witness testimonials, suspect defenses – it was all part of the job. Of course she'd been trained to know that people were unreliable sources. Whether intentionally or not, they could lead you astray with the things they said. The surest way to the truth was to follow the evidence – she'd had that proven to her over and over through the years. For the most part, she'd come to rely heavily on the evidence; trusting it above all else. But there were those occasional exceptions sprinkled about here and there – times when she would find herself getting caught up in the statement of a witness. She wouldn't really think about it at the time; she'd just figure they would be telling the truth and that she could accept them at their word. And then their true colors would show through.

It seriously disturbed her to think how they could almost effortlessly lead her along and have her believing whatever they said. More than that, though, it worried her that she could be so easily deceived. She was the type of personality that tended to naturally believe people, to take them at their word unless she had a specific reason why she shouldn't. It bothered her to no end to have that trust she placed in them be proven unjustified.

But this was something new. She'd had several experiences with witnesses turning out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. And every time it reopened the wound when the truth was made clear. As if that didn't hurt enough, now she found she couldn't even trust a victim to simply be a victim.

They say it's a small world. She had certainly had that proven to her tonight. What were the odds that in less than twenty-four hours she would go from comforting a dying girl – literally having her bleed to death in her arms – to comforting a killer? But not just any killer. Cammie's killer. A killer who felt absolutely no remorse or guilt for having just brutally murdered six girls for no reason at all. That was the person she had comforted. She'd invested her emotions in him – had done everything in her power to assure him and to put him at ease. She'd held his hand. Everything just as she'd done with Cammie. All for someone that she later realized was the very person she had developed such a strong anger towards.

* * *

The bathroom door banged shut behind her as she hurried in. She was relieved to finally be out from under all the curious eyes – everyone asking if she was all right was beginning to be more than she could handle. She paced the small room, venting some of the tension that had built up inside of her. After the police had arrived, she hadn't been able to escape the crowds fast enough. While she appreciated the concern others showed her, she didn't like people to see her vulnerable. She didn't like feeling vulnerable. At least now she had a few minutes alone where she could let go of the multitude of emotions that were already threatening to break away from her control at any minute. She could only hold it in for so long. 

Taking a deep breath, she moved up next to the low counter that ran along the entire side of one wall. Placing her hands on it, she leaned down heavily for support while at the same time trying to convince her pounding heart to settle down. How had she not seen that coming? Why had she been so quick to come to this man's aid? The questions flooded her mind and the answer wasn't far behind. It was because he was supposed to be a victim and she was supposed to be able to trust a victim. Yet even as she thought it, she knew the real answer lay deeper than that.

She'd become too emotionally involved. If she hadn't allowed herself to become so absorbed in this case, she wouldn't have come with him in the first place. She'd have maintained the correct perspective and have kept her distance accordingly. But no. She just couldn't stay away. She cared too much. From the moment she found Cammie under the bed she was in too deep.

Looking up, she studied her reflection in the large mirror across from her. Her eye was immediately drawn to the scratch on the left side of her face. Turning her head slightly to get a better look, she absently lifted her hand and gently touched the area. She couldn't help but notice the irony of having an actual manifestation of how this case had affected her. It had literally cut her physically and emotionally. She had been through a wild roller coaster of emotions in such a short time and she feared she wasn't handling it very well.

Her gaze gradually shifted down to settle on her arm where Marlon Frost had grabbed hold of her. His grip had been surprisingly strong and she knew a deep bruise would soon appear. The difference was, she didn't mind the scratch. Cammie hadn't realized what she was doing. But Marlon knew exactly what he was doing. It terrified and angered her at the same time to realize she'd been right there with Cammie's killer and had been completely oblivious.

The sudden, high-pitched ringing of her phone pulled her out of her thoughts, breaking the silence that had surrounded her. Closing her eyes wearily, she thought about how much she wanted to simply disappear – to hide away from the world. She most definitely didn't want to have to put on her strong face and talk to anyone from work. She sighed and briefly glanced down at the screen that ID-ed her caller. As she read the name and number she felt a slight decrease in the intensity of her tormented emotions and she amended her last thought. There was one person she would talk to from work, though in all fairness, she didn't really consider him a part of work much anymore.

Taking a moment to gather up her feelings and push them off to the side, she slowly flipped the phone open.

"Sidle" She answered, instinctively using her standard greeting. She was a bit taken aback by the sound of her voice, which was oddly strained and hoarse.

"Sara?" Grissom said, the concern as evident as if her were there with her. "Nick said you'd gone to the hospital with the victim. It's been awhile – I wanted to make sure there hadn't been any problems."

She winced at his choice of the word "victim" as she carefully chose her next words. While she would later confide in him all that had happened, now was not the proper time or place. There was no need to add to his concern when there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

"Yeah, sorry about that – something came up. I won't be too much longer and I'll fill you in when I see you." She knew she didn't sound nearly as confident and secure as her words had implied and she knew he would pick up on that. But, to his credit, he didn't push the issue. He knew she needed some space and that she would talk to him when she was ready, and she loved him for that.

Instead he simply said "Okay. I'll be waiting for you." Then he added "Take care of yourself."

She could sense the hesitation in his voice and knew he would have preferred to discuss things right then. But he was willing to do things at her pace and that meant a lot to her. That's what set him apart from anyone else. His open affection touched her deeply and, as simple as it was, it served as a soothing, much needed relief from the turmoil she'd been overwhelmed with.

"I will." She said simply and sincerely before hanging up. She wanted so much to be able to trust him; to not feel the insecurities that had developed whenever she thought of him. But it terrified her how prevalent this pattern of broken trust was in her life. She couldn't even trust a victim – could she trust this man to be all he seemed to be? Could she really take him at his word and risk the hurt that could so easily come when she least expected it?

She greatly resented this doubt that had entered into her life. Over the last few weeks, they'd lived normally enough, though the uncertainty was a constant part of her thoughts. She had gently probed around, testing the waters and slowly venturing further in, finding where he stood on various issues. There was no doubt she had deep feelings for him and he for her. But that nagging voice was always there, telling her that if she couldn't trust anyone else, there was no reason to believe him to be any different. This experience with Cammie and Marlon only backed up that assumption. She hadn't seen that coming and now she was paying for that ignorance greatly. She couldn't see anything coming where Grissom was concerned, but if it came, she wasn't sure how she would cope...or if she'd even be able to.

She sighed, weary of this continuous inner battle. She didn't have the energy to try to make sense of all her fears at the moment. It might backfire on her later, but right now she needed Grissom. Of everyone else, he was the only person she felt even somewhat inclined to trust and he was the only one she could turn to. Maybe when this was all behind her she could talk to him about her concerns. One thing was for sure, this issue of trust wasn't going to simply fade away. She would need to address it sooner or later. But one thing at a time. Right now she needed to go face the monster that was Marlon Frost.

All feelings of fear and insecurity were slowly pushed back into a far corner of her mind, to be addressed later. Instead, she found those feelings were replaced with feelings of determination and anger. Standing up straight, she gathered up all her strength and once more established the protective walls around her, which served to both protect herself, as well as to help her appear in control. She would make sure Marlon Frost got what he deserved. There would be no more compassion shown to him – she'd already given him more than enough.

Trust would have to wait.


End file.
